"The rain," Ihor says.
Paul nods, slowly.
"It's like..." Ihor pauses, searching for the word.
"Crisper," Paul says.
"Exactly," Ihor says, nodding.
"Almost like..." Paul frowns, "red? Maybe?"
"Mostly," Ihor says. "With a hint of orange."
"Orange, right." Paul points at Ihor. "That's right. I keep forgetting that one."
"A lot of things are orange, though," Ihor says, frowning.
"Not where I'm from," Paul says darkly. "Everything's just blue-black there."
Ihor winces. "I can't even imagine that."
"Don't," Paul says firmly. He shakes his head. "Don't even try."
Ihor shudders a little. "Believe me, I don't want to."
Paul nods. "Good." He sits up straighter suddenly, cocking his head.
"My mom coming?" Ihor asks. Paul nods, standing up.
"Keep it short, yeah?" Paul asks as he closes the closet door.
"Okay," Ihor replies to the now-empty room.
There's a soft tap on the door before his mom pokes her head in.
"What are you doing, Ihor?" Ihor's mom asks, looking in.
